A Room With A View

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A masquerade ball & a room with a view.
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We are dancing, slowly, at the masquerade ball. You, in the outfit I bought for you in my travels....a beautiful Chinese red silk dress, high at the neck, and cut just above the knees. Close-fitting but sophisticated. A vision of smouldering sensuality, you turn more heads than any woman in the room. You have worn the open-toed heels, also red, with the ankle ties that show off your calves, the sheer stay up stockings and red sheer thong and flimsy push-up bra barely there, as if nude under the silk. The simple red silk ribbon I tied around your neck before we left the room is barely perceptible but turns us both on, edging just above your collar.

I am in a black silk suit with crisp white shirt and red tie made from the same material as your custom-tailored dress. My black silk boxers let me move freely in my dress pants, so as we dance, joined at the hip, I whisper in your ear and press my lips against your neck as my hardness presses likewise against your lips below. My voice becomes slightly deeper and more like liquid velvet when you turn me on, which is often, so I know my words are making your juices flow and moistening through your thong , just as your trembling whispers are making me wet and cool at the tip of my heat and dripping down my shaft. Our bodies are perfectly aligned for sex, and I gaze into your eyes and swim in them, making polite conversation as we are floating on the music, with the submissive, naughty little girl just below the surface of the strong, sophisticated woman. Each of us wants to go down on the other right then and there, but we stay, for we are expected to, though we are getting more and more turned on by what awaits us in our suite later.

You intoxicate me that way and we are more drunk in it than from the champagne.

In the elevator at the end of the evening, I look into your eyes as we take off each other's masks. You smile that smile that says it all, whispering "Yes." and I gently press you against the wall, pinning your hands behind your back, running my fingers over your hard nipples through the material and tugging them slightly as I lick, then nibble, the side of your neck. You are moaning softly, not knowing that my gentle bites that will soon be all over your body, with red silk scarves delightfully holding you, spread out like a rich buffet just for us, and I reach under your dress, lifting it quickly to push the thong aside and stroke directly into your wetness. You are whispering "Yes, please take me here. " moving your legs apart and arching your hips to my hand, unzipping me in your mind, your hands urgently wanting to wrap around my hot shaft.... when the elevator.....stops.

My hands drop quickly and I move back just a titch....kissing you on the cheek to cover your flushing face as an older couple get on the elevator. They smile sweetly, commenting on your dress, and the ride continues to our floor, my arm around your waist, feeling you shaking with lust.

We finally arrive at our floor and as we leave the elevator, we hear the elderly lady say with a smile to her man..."You can actually smell the sex coming off those two...they'll be naked in less than a minute."

And she's right...

We laugh at their laughter, and her words, because we saw the glint our heat gave them...and know her words to be true.

So the hallway seems very long, like deliciously languid foreplay. Your stockings swishing together at their tops. Each of us wet. Ready.

You're thinking about the red ribbon around your neck and what it means between us. And you're thinking about the spa day you had in preparation for the masquerade ball. Knowing we'd be wearing the little masks we bought at the costumer's, yours red, mine black, you'd had a full Brazilian for the first time as an extra treat for us. You'd hidden your total hairlessness from me well while we dressed, and now you are pleased and aroused in a way you've never experienced, like new nerve endings all being caressed by the red silk ribbon and microfiber lingerie for the first time.

I'm thinking about the arrangements I had made in the suite for our late activities. The mahogany four poster king was properly relocated to the expansive arched leaded windows overlooking Times Square, as requested...I'd checked an hour or so ago when I told you I needed to talk business with those fellows in the cigar lounge.

I had also lit the tall candles, moved the dressing mirrors and angled them just so, tied the long red silk scarves to the posts and connected the camera to the big tv there as a monitor. All so you'll have several angles to view us as I delight you for hours in a way you'll not soon forget.

Windows open, sheers billowing, champagne cold. The heartbeat of the city drumming below. It'll be as if we're making love in Times Square itself from this erotic, luxurious perch.

At our door, I look in your eyes, kiss you long and slow. Reaching behind, I silently unzip your dress there in the hallway. It slides off your hairless body like a ghost.

I open the door. You enter. I pick up the dress and follow.

I put your little red mask back on you and you place mine on me. The masquerade ball will always be our favorite weekend. Such fun, dancing close, as if we are strangers caught in an illicit, kinky affair.

I pour champagne. You see the arrangements and smile broadly. We toast. You walk to the windows and step behind the sheers. I see your profile in the flickering light as you glide your fingers over yourself , looking at the square below and sip silently.

I've removed my clothes and joined you there, my hand caressing your torso as my hot hard ridge makes contact with your perfect ass.

You are more silken than the fine lingerie, so I unhook the bra and it glides to the floor.

The knife from a nearby sommelier's corkscrew slides coolly under the little strings over your hips. Two deft strokes and you breathe deeply as the little thong clings to your wet lips below, then gives up the ghost and drops to the floor.

You tremble a little as my fingers glide into your pool, then spread the nectar over your bald sex, slowly. Dipping my fingers in the cold straw mead, I cool your skin there and you gasp.

"Do you like it?" you whisper.

"You are completely hairless, naked for me. I do like it." then bite your neck softly.

We silently turn to the bed, knowing it is time.

At the side, glasses join the magnum and you sink to your knees, stockings whispering. You look up, your red ribbon catching the same light as your eyes. Plaintively.

"Yes, you may."

You suck.

And you glance in the camera, to the mirrors, then to the screen, seeing yourself with my shaft in your mouth, your hands trained to stay behind your back, your mask framing your eyes.

Your desire makes you float with hunger and you devour me whole.

I let you drink greedily for a time, then touch your neck, stroking slowly upwards. You rise. We kiss deeply, sharing my sticky clear love.

Outside, the beat of the square has slowed and intensified, as if in time with our moves. The city breathing as you breathe as you lie on the bed.

Soft silk encases your ankles, then your wrists.

"Yes." You moan at being tied for me to take as I please.

Shiny silver chain sliding up between your legs. Gently through your pink pool, up your taut torso. Finally, the clasps grip your raspberry buds atop your heaving breasts. The chain finds its home between, pulling at each as your breasts heave and sway.

Your head and shoulders nestled in downy pillows there, back to the city, your hair framing your mask, your face. You can see yourself on our screen and me with the oil on my large sure hands. And the city below cheers us on with the sheers waving as at a parade and the breeze touching your naked flesh like a million fingers of horny strangers.

But you are all mine in the flickering light. Mine alone. The oil is hot on your feet and the breeze is cool on your nipples pinched tall.

Goosebumps take over and your shake from it all. Your sex is pulsing inside and rivulets of juice flow down to wet your little starfish and you tremble, getting close.

As my hands move up to your thighs, you cum strong and hard. Your face a mixture of surprise and joy and confusion at a climax without my cock or mouth in you, your sex pumping fast, your juices a torrent as you cry out my name and see yourself on the screen. And you keep cumming in waves. You can't stop it.

I am pouring more oil on my hands and move close enough for you to suck my sex again, for it is what you desire.

Your gratitude and lust are palpable and the crowd in the square, now cheering at some late night celebration down there, enflame your desire as if they could see.

And the billowing sheers wave to us, the breeze intensifies, kissing your nipples now crimson and tight.

But you are mine, only mine, there in the flickering light.

The oil on your hairless flesh like a lover itself, I'm in your mouth, twitching now. A guttural moan leaps out and my head pops out of your lips, creamy arcs on your chin, neck and breasts.

You open your mouth and I milk the fat wand. Big stringy drops fall to your tongue, connected to you, connected to me. Glistening with your eyes and your smile.

You want more. I lick myself off you and you greedily suck my mouth till its ours.

The square raises a cheer as if for us. We don't hear anymore. You're watching me suck your naked sex, the oil on my hands on your tits as you watch on tv and in the mirrors. And you cum fast and hard. Again and again, with the waves taking you up.

You lick your cum off my face and our tongues dance as at the ball.

The clamps are released and my teeth take their place. You're wild in it now, shaking and moaning deliciously dirty things as two fingers stroke your walls and a third enters behind.

And you're cumming again and again and you're roaring with the crowd, your hair tangled, your body sweating sex and glistening with oil in the flickering light as the sheers rampage overhead in the wind, struggling like your limbs to be free and have me all.

The knife cuts you free and you leap to your knees, red silk banners your flags. The billowing sheers licking your back and you seeing the mob down there, fists in the air, dancing and cheering as I enter you fast hard and true, sliding, fucking, pounding in you as you scream out my name and cum yet again, your face in contortions your eyes on fire as you open and process the scene.

You and me. On the screen. In the flickering light. Our bodies all sweaty, my cock in full flight. And the crowd cheering loud at the pair high up in the air. On the screen. One hundred feet high, masked, screaming, unbound and fucking. Naked, obscene. Yet in a beautiful trance. Like the dance hours ago, connected by silk.

Three floors up, the elderly couple are watching, agape. Speechless

Finally, she pulls her eyes away, looks at him and says "Do they look familiar to you?"

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